I kissed him slightly on the lips and lay back in bed. We hadn’t really said anything to each other in the past thirty minutes as we lay in bed. He was buried in the match he was streaming online while I tried to focus on the gossip blog I had stumbled upon. I sighed as he finally brushed his hand against my thigh; a sign that he still acknowledged my presence. I closed my eyes and rubbed my hand lightly across my temple. Few days to my 30th birthday and here I was caught in another meaningless relationship. How exactly did I get to this point? 

The trio of I, Chinenye and Zainab had made a pact back in high school to meet every five years and catch up no matter where we were. Unfortunately, our third meet was scheduled to fall on my birthday. The closer the day was, the more agitated I became. The last time we met, Chinenye was pregnant with her first child and Zainab was engaged. I, ironically, the one voted the most sought after and most likely to succeed at prom had no ring, husband or child. I had lost my high paying job and had to rely on my boyfriends per time. 

Ndukwe was the third of such. He was rich. Rich enough to take me on regular shopping spree, holiday spots, dates to expensive restaurants and the likes. The downside to it, Ndukwe made sure he doesn’t give me enough money so at the end, I’m still totally dependent on him. Thanks to him, I still have a roof over my head and my pantry never runs out of food. Still, there was an emptiness inside of me. He had proposed to me once, or I like to think it was one. “You take care of a home really well. Let’s get married.” Was all he said. I had smiled and changed the topic. 

Ndukwe was forty five, he had never been married nor did he have kids. He had kicked off really late in life, putting all the energy he had into growing his spare part business, hence his singleness at this age. On a very good day, I’d snatch his surname up in a second. I wouldn’t have minded his pot belly or the signs of early balding but Ndukwe you see, is a very egoistic and misogynist man who believes a woman’s place should be in the house, making babies and keeping the home front in order. He spoils me silly, no doubt. But how did I condescend this low? 

Seven years ago, I spat in the face of people like him, not literally though. I was a fierce feminist well known in the local feminism circle. I was loved, respected and even feared. I wonder what the community would think when they find out their amazon warrior had become a man’s ornament. I peaked at his heavily bearded face from the corner of my eyes and sighed. Condition truly makes crayfish to bend. I just have to endure for a few more days. I need his platinum card to keep up with appearances. There was no way I was going to let the girls know what was happening in my life. Not when they are living their Cinderella dreams. Then, I’d give it a little time and break the news to him. It had worked with the others and hopefully it works with him too. I mean, no man wants to be with a woman who has no womb. Good thing none of them had bothered to confirm if it was true or not. I hope Ndukwe believes it too without probing. If not…

I looked at the bed time clock. It was 4:22.

2 thoughts on “4:22

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s